


(sometimes) good things never last

by restaurantchain



Series: the best part of me was always you [1]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU, Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Angst, Canon Compliant, Child!Harleen Quinzel, Child!Pamela Isley, F/F, Fluff, because theres some, hehe ive had this idea for a while, listen its actually v fluffy read it folks i swear its worth ur time, someone give pamela a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restaurantchain/pseuds/restaurantchain
Summary: Pamela is only a kid, she doesn't get why nothing good ever lasts.
Relationships: Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Series: the best part of me was always you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699795
Comments: 51
Kudos: 131





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> heya. ive been planning this for a while now.  
> this fic is sort of an experiment,,, I'm just testing some stuff.  
> read at 3 am to maximise the feels  
> xx
> 
> (as always comments and kudos give me life, help make a gay happy yeah?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pamela has a flower.  
> pamela no longer has a flower.

Pamela Isley is 5 when she realises good things never last.

Because her only companion has died; a vibrant red lily, a flower she kept in a pot on her bedside, its petals as red as her hair. But it died, as a plant does.

It wouldn’t grow leaves; it wouldn’t bloom the next spring. It wilted. Like many things do.

So she gets another friend, another red lily. She tries again. She waters it, she leaves it by her windowsill to bask in golden sun rays. Pamela talks to the flower, sings to it sometimes, caresses its leaves.

But winter comes and winter kills. The snow, the freezing cold and the forever darkened cloudy skies is too much for a flower, and so it dies, like many things do during winter.

Pamela is only five, and she doesn’t understand why nothing stays.


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pamela does colouring

It’s the second day of first grade and Pamela Isley is 6, nearly 7 soon.

The teacher greets her with a smile, and she feels warmth again. She chooses to sit at the back of the class, though, away from other kids.

  
Her school is small, a building on the edge of Gotham, away from the main districts for the safety of the children. The kids in her class are lively, laughing as if the joy will never go away.

  
Today they’re colouring in with crayons. Pamela picks the sheet with a flower and colours it red. She’s coloured in half of the flower when the crayon snaps.

  
Oh. Not again.

  
“Oh dear! Pamela, here. Have another crayon.” The teacher laughs and hands her another, and just like that, the crayon is replaced, discarded.

  
She’s given a new crayon. A fresh start.

  
Pamela eventually finishes the flower. The red petals reminded her of her old lily, her friend from years back. But that flower’s dead, she reminds herself. She ought to forget about it.

  
She gets home and frames the flower; it hangs in her bedroom against the marble walls and beautiful arched windows.

This flower won’t die on her.

_She's positive._


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a shame pamela can never be like her.

Pamela is 7, and the frame is broken underneath her bed. After her father, in a fit of anger slams her door, the drawing drops from the wall and the frame shatters.

Despite meaning to fix it, she forgets about it after a while. She gets more plants though, to compensate. It doesn’t matter if they die anymore because she doesn’t care, after all, nothing lasts.

She goes to school because her parents tell her to. She wouldn’t disappoint her parents, never. Plus, going to school wasn’t that hard, she didn’t feel lonely, she sits by herself because it’s a choice. Kids would often ask her to join them in a game, but she would always politely deny because Pamela thought she was better watching from the outside.

On one particularly hot summer’s school day in May, Pamela notices that there is close to no one on the fields at recess. Grass crumbles in the heat of the sun, curling into a sickly pale yellow colour. She sits in the shade of the towering trees and gazes at a girl swinging on the playset.

This must be the new girl.

“Harleen,” The teacher sighs wearily, “Please get out of the heat.”

“Miss, please! Call me Harley!”

Harley, Pamela thinks. That’s a pretty name.

She watches as Harleen — no, Harley — flips from handlebar to handlebar, blonde pigtails flipping from side to side. The kids in the shade of the classroom’s outer walls are also watching, everyone’s eyes following the girl, in awe as she throws herself over and under objects like they are mere pebbles in her path.

Pamela clutches her arms to her chest and wishes she could act like that; wishes she could look like that. Look like she’s having fun, mirror the glint of pure joy and freedom captured in those pale blue eyes.  
But her eyes are green, and they will never be the same.


	4. iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harley is a weird little girl

Pamela Isley turns 8 today and it’s already the worst day of her life.

Her teacher makes the entire class sing happy birthday to her and the class fills with shrieking yells that children excuse for singing. She had forgotten about the day herself; her parents had not reminded her, simply because they did not care.

_"_ _Happy birthday to you...”_

It comes as a surprise to Pamela. She even hoped that no one knew her birthday. Pamela doesn’t like surprises, and she hates the attention.

_"_ _Happy birthday to you..."_

Too many eyes, looking at her for the first time.

_"Happy birthday, dear... Pamela..."_

The class grows quiet. No one knows her name except the teacher.

She hates it so, so much.

But that girl, Harley — she’s cheering so loudly, smiling so brightly her mouth must hurt, eyes sparkling brilliantly.

 _That isn’t right,_ Pamela decides. Harley doesn’t even know her. Why should she be so enthusiastic about the birthday of someone she doesn’t even know the name of?

Thinking about it makes Pamela’s head hurt and her stomach flip.

Strange girl, that Harley.


	5. v

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harley says hi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter today

It is the day after she turns 8 and Pamela Isley concludes that Harley Quinzel is most certainly strange. Ridiculous, even, She had heard that word used by her mother.

The blonde was sitting right there, talking to her.

  
"Heya! Happy birthday, Red! Well, for yesterday at least. Oooo! Red. That’s a good nickname, can I call you that? Can I? Can I?"

Pamela was overwhelmed.

  
“Uh. Sure.” She mutters, because what else is she supposed to say?

  
“Aw, cool! I’m Harleen by the way, you can call me Harley! Nice to meet you!” The girl chirps, she has an accent Pamela realises, her voice sounded foreign and new, but not unwelcomed.

  
“So what’s your name?”

  
“I- um… I’m Isley. P-Pamela Isley.”

  
There is silence.

  
“You can call me Red if you want—"

  
She gets cut off because Harley is squealing again. “Pamela is such a pretty name!! I can think of sooo many nicknames for that!”

  
 _Oh._ Pamela’s never had a nickname before. It sounds nice, like a good thing.

  
“What do you think about… Pammy?”

  
Pamela opens her mouth to reply but is once again cut off, this time by the teacher.

  
“Harleen, can you move back to your seat, sweetie?”

Harley turns and looks at the teacher, “But I wanna sit with Pammy,” She says.

The elderly woman sighs.

  
“Pamela, would you like Harleen to sit with you?”

  
She looks back at Harley who is thumping her feet on the floor rhythmically out of excitement, almost begging to let her stay.

  
So Pamela says yes. What else was she supposed to say?

Harley seems incapable of going two minutes without talking to Pamela, always leaning exceedingly close when asking her a question and grinning wildly when she answers. Pamela is assailed with endless queries.

Strangely, she doesn’t dislike the attention; she finds herself liking the fact that Harley wants to know what her favourite colour is, or which food she hates most in the world, or what she thinks about erasable pens. _Maybe,_ she reflects, it’s because the constant conversations keep her thoughts and worries at the back of her head. She doesn’t have time to think about _why_ Harley wanted to sit with her or _why in the world_ she even wants to talk to Pamela in the first place.

And in the end, she forgets to ask.

The lunch break bell rings and children scatter to the playgrounds. It’s one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightens the warm rays of the sun, fresh dewdrops of rain still lingering on the grass as Pamela sits down under a tree. She stares at the sky, dappled with clouds and sighs. Her hair gets snagged and pulled by the bark of the tree as she listens to the leaves rustle. Pamela got by every lunchtime by getting lost in her thoughts, thinking about things only a kid can wonder about. Thoughts of flying and having wind whistle past her face, brushing her hair away, make her eyes widen in wonder. But today she can’t escape a feeling of emptiness. Talking to Harley made her realise she was missing out on a lot of things. A friend, for one.

  
“Oh, there you are!” Harley yells from across the playground. Everyone turns to look at her.

  
Oh god. Too many eyes again. A laugh ripples through the onlookers as Harley throws herself beside her. “I was lookin’ for yah, Pammy!” The girl coos.

  
Startled, Pamela buries her face in her hands.

  
“Hey, Harley.”

  
Harley looks around at her spot for a moment, then smiles. “It’s nice here.” She whispers, the quietest she’s been all day, “I like it.”

  
Great.

  
…Does that mean she’s staying?


	6. vi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday red.

When asked what she did for her 8th birthday, Pamela Isley stays quiet.

  
“Nothing,” she replies eventually. Harley is silent, the dumbfounded look growing on her face, “Really? Not even a cake? Not even presents?” She asks, eyes widening when Pamela shakes her head. Pamela cringes. She hates that she’s different.

“Yeah…” she mutters. The blonde suddenly shoots up from her spot, feet firmly planted in the dirt.

She’s going to leave, Pamela thinks, and tries not to care. She’s going to leave like everyone else.

But Harley doesn’t walk away. She extends a hand and looks down at her with a soft gaze and sly smile on her face.

“Wha-”

“Just take my hand! C’mon, I promise it’s worth it.” She grins.

So Pamela does. Fingers intertwined, she is pulled to her feet and Harley sprints off, dragging her along. It’s that feeling, wind whipping at her face. It’s that look again, and Harley is holding her hand, laughing as they sprint across the grass oval, eyes lighting up a crystal blue.

They arrive at the edges of the school yard, a section of the building that’s barely visited. Weeds sprout from the earth here, weaving in and out of the fence before dancing up trees and back across the ground.

Wildflowers push from cracks in brick walls, forming an array of colours. Blue, yellow and green, all waving with the wind, drifting from side to side. The plants are sun-warmed and beautiful, littering the ground with tiny bursts of colour.

Pamela has seen flowers before, but not like this. These plants are wild, untamed, growing out of every corner and shadow. It is stunning.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Harley says quietly.

Pamela looks back at the girl. “What are we doing here?”

Harley beams, “I’m throwing you a birthday party!”

Oh.

Pamela blinks. “Wait, what? Why-?”

“Because you deserve it silly! Just wait here, I’ll call everyone over and we’ll play games and you’ll have the best party ever!”

Pamela grabs her wrist before she runs off. “ _No-_ Wait,” she stutters, “Please don’t… I… don’t like people…”

Harley blinks.

She turns around and takes her hand again, pulling her behind the bushes before sitting down cross-legged on an empty patch of grass hidden by leaves.

“Just us then.” She smiles, patting a spot of grass invitingly.

So Pamela sits.

The space of moss and grass is illuminated by rays of light blinking in through leaves, specks of heaven pouring down onto the glistening greenery.

“Happy birthday to you.”

This is different, Pamela realises. This feels different. It’s just Harley singing, and only to her.

“Happy birthday to you.”

She sings softly, like she’s afraid she might scare Pamela off. Like she doesn’t want to. The blonde is swinging their arms back and forth and smiling at her. The smile resembles her teacher’s, warm and bright and real, and it fills Pamela up with a feeling that she’s never felt before. Maybe Harley’s smile is closer to the sun.

“Happy birthday dear Pammy…”

It isn’t her name. It’s a nickname, so familiar, so easy, and she loves it.

Pamela stares, dumbstruck, transfixed by the girl in front of her. As the song ends Harley pulls out a crumbled chocolate bar out and hands it to her, “It ain’t no fancy cake but a birthday isn’t a birthday without a lil’ bit-a sugar!”

She bites it and it tastes like the sweetest thing on Earth.

Harley looks around, pigtails flapping around her head. “Hmm, and let’s see…” Her eyes light up as she spots something in the bush. The girl sticks her hand inside the leaves and pulls out a delicate red dandelion. “I know I shouldn’t really pull out flowers, but here,” Before Pamela has time to react, Harley reaches up and tucks the flower behind her hair. She leans back and smiles, “Aww. Isn’t that cool, Red? It matches your eyes AND your hair!”

Pamela stares at her, speechless. When she finds the words, they’re simple. “I love it.”

Harley smiles.

Gosh, she cannot get enough of that smile.

“Yes! Success!” Harley cheers.

“Harley-” She fumbles with words again. Speaking was hard.

“Why?”

“Waddya mean, why?”

“I mean, why? Why do all this for me? I-I mean you don’t even _know_ me. Not really.”

Harley snorts. “Of course I know you, Red! You’re my friend.”

_Oh._

“I-” Pamela is stuttering again. She decides right now that she won’t argue with that, not ever. “Thank you.”

Now they’re both smiling.

“Happy birthday, Red.”

Pamela knows what this is now. This is a good thing.


	7. vii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pamela gets a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fuckin love the comments on this, shout out to fandomobserver, Gay_and_Afraid and thestormborn :>

There are only 315 days left until her next birthday and Pamela Isley cannot wait until she can celebrate it again.

  
Unfortunately, it is only May. The summer heat starts to roll in again as the days become increasingly warmer and it gets harder to run around with Harley across fields and lawns.

But it’s fine, Pamela thinks, because summer break is starting soon, and she can run around with Harley every day if she wants.

It’s 8:30 in the morning and the heat is already unbearable. Just as class starts, the teacher strolls in with a cart full of pots and soil.

“Alright class, I have a project for you all to take home and work on during summer break!”

The children gather around excitedly, and Pamela is, admittedly, curious too.

“Oooh! I think we’re planting flowers Red!” Harley bounces enthusiastically from foot to foot.

Pamela frowns. She’s never been very good with plants.

“Now class, I want you to pair up. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough pots and soil for everyone, so you’ll need to work on this project with a friend.”

She doesn’t even need to look at Harley to make her decision. They both know that Pammy could only ever pick Harley, and Harley would rather die than pick another partner. They don’t need anyone else.

Soon, they’re back at their table at the back of the class with a handful of soil, a seed and a blue pot that Pamela picked out.

“What flower did you get Harley?”

Harley squints at the label on the seed’s container, trying to process words that were definitely too big for her brain to comprehend. “Uh… I think it’s... a lily,” Harley shrugs. “That’s not bad, lilies are pretty.”

Pamela falls silent and stares at the seed packet in Harley’s hands.

Harley begins filling the pot and grins. “Yah know what? This plant needs a name.”

She hums for a moment, “What about-”

“What if it dies.” Pamela suddenly blurts out.

Harley looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Nah, I’m sure it won’t. We’re gonna water it every day, and give it lots-a sunlight, make sure it’s living it’s best plant life! Won’t we Pam?”

“How can you be so sure?” Pamela shivers. “What if… What if it’s too hot for the plant in summer, what if… we water it too much-”

She looks up from the ground at the squeeze of Harley’s hands gripping her shoulders. “We’ll be fine Red. I promise.”

 _That’s a huge promise. _  
But she needs to learn to trust,__ Pamela realises. So she nods. Harley lowers her arms and Pamela takes her hand.

“Yeah…” she sighs, “Yeah, we’ll be fine…”

Flowers are good things, and good things go away, she thinks, but Harley is a good thing, and Harley would _never_ leave her... Right?

Before she could contemplate more, Harley squeals and her eyes light up. She pulls Pamela into a tight hug, laughing out loud. _ _  
__

__"Alright let’s say we give this baby a name yeah?”_ _


	8. viii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harley visits during summer break

It is a sweltering hot day and Lucienne the plant, Lucy for short, is exactly 20 days old.

  
Pamela likes Lucienne. It’s coming along to be a wonderful plant, just as Harley promised.

Another reason she likes Lucy is that it brings Harley over every day.

The blonde manages to come over almost every single day to water the plant and watch it grow with her. On most occasions, Harley stays ‘til the evening, sometimes late into the night, like she has nowhere else to go to and no place else she’d rather be. Pamela is fine with this of course, extremely fine with it in fact. Summer days were lonely when it was only her and her empty house.

Today Harley came at around noon, now perched beside the plant on the treehouse’s windowsill, fanning herself and leaning dramatically against the wooden frame. “Listen Pam-a-lamb, I know this treehouse of yours is sweet and all but we really gotta get some air conditioning in here or something.”

  
Pamela looks up from her book. “There is a fan right there,” She deadpans.

  
Harley pouts. “Yeah, but you’re hogging all of it!”

  
“I am not.”

“You are so.”

“It’s not my fault you’re not sitting in front of it.”

“Fine,” Harley gets up and jumps on Pamela’s lap, right in front of the damn fan, of course. Pamela flails, feeling the beanbag give way underneath her, her body sliding forward onto the floor.

“Harlssssss…” She drawls, “Now _you’re_ hogging the fan.”

She wipes Harley’s blonde locks out of her face and puts her book down, just as Harley leans back to lie on her completely. “Harls, you gotta get off me, it’s burning hot.”

The blonde doesn’t move, continuing to stare at the ceiling, pleased that she managed to annoy Pamela _and_ get the fan. It is still unbearably hot, though.

“I have air conditioning in my room, Harls. Wanna move there?”

"Aww, but I like the treehouse,” Harley whines playfully.

"You need to decide if you want to stay here and die of heatstroke or go to my air-conditioned room,” Pamela retorts, trying not to smile.

"Fiiiiine. Can we bring Lucy, though?"

"Sure.”

Pamela gets up to move, stepping down the ladder and cradling Lucy gently in her arms. She looks up the treehouse, waiting patiently for Harley.

There’s an unusual silence.

“Harle-”

Before she could react Harley leaps from above the treehouse down to the soft lawn underneath, soaring over Pamela, landing with a thump on the grass. She lands on her knees, but the momentum drives her entire body into the greenery.

“Harley!” Pamela shrieks. “Holy- Are you okay?”

Harley laughs and sits on her knees, cheering loudly. “Again! Again!” She yells, bangs messed up over her face.

Pamela grabs her by the collar before she can run up the tree again, yanking her back, “Harley. No.” She says sternly, mimicking their teacher, “That’s dangerous.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “Fine…” Jumping up to her feet, Harley starts dashing to the entrance of Pamela’s house. “Race you to your room!”

Pamela sighs. “Harley, wait! You don’t even know where you’re goi-”

And she’s gone.

Harley’s head is against Pamela’s shoulder, resting in the crook of her neck as the gentle caress of cool air fills the room. Lucy’s stalk wobbles slightly in front of the air conditioner.

Harley sighs with relief. “Oh, Red, you were so right. This is so much better than your treehouse. Honestly, I love your super big rich person house, it’s so fancy.” She says, eyes widening in awe. She looks around at the almost empty room, occupied only by a queen-sized bed. Too big for an 8-year-old girl. There’s a mirror, too, 2 sets of drawers and a lonely cupboard probably filled with Pamela’s clothing.

“Geez, I need to help you decorate this place.” She murmurs.

Pamela looks at her, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “Yeah? Well, I don’t usually have people over…”

“Why not?”

“I- Uh, well... my parents don’t let me.” It’s sort of a lie. It’s not like her parents wouldn’t let Harley inside. They wouldn’t approve of her either, though. Truth is that her parents don’t even know Harley is over right now. It’s noon and they’re off at some fancy golf party… or something. Pamela doesn’t really know.

She stops thinking about her parents suddenly when she hears a thud. Harley had leaned too far over the bed, and fallen flat on her stomach on the floor.

“Harley, you okay?” Pamela tries to hold in a laugh.

Harley giggles. “Owieee…” She snorts. She stops laughing when she spots something, sticking her hand underneath Pamela’s bed to retrieve it, pulling out the drawing of the flower that Pamela had forgotten about oh so long ago.

“Oooo! Pretty!!” Harley squeals, sitting up straight to look at the drawing properly. Pamela catches sight of the flower and her throat goes dry.

“Uh…” She pauses, “That's an old drawing.”

“What’s doing underneath your bed?”

Pamela fiddles with her hair. “I- I um. It broke. And I, uh, forgot about it…”

Harley stares at the red flower. “Aww, what? It’s so cool, though!”

She looks away. Pamela stares at the ceiling. “You can have it if you want. I don’t want it.”

Harley smiles brightly. “Neat! Thank you!” She folds the drawing and slips it into her pocket before leaping up off the floor. “Oh, darn! I lost track of the time. I have to head home.”

Pamela pouts, “Aw I was looking forward to you staying the night though.” She doesn’t say anything else as she watches Harley gather her things.

“I know I’m so sorry Pammie… It’s just that…” She pauses, contemplating her words, “I have something on today…”

Soon, they’re at Pamela’s front door and Harley is waving her goodbye, “You know what?” the blonde calls behind her, “I’ll come back tonight! I’ll bring all my clothes, snacks and everything! We can totally camp out in your treehouse.”

Pamela lights up, “That sounds great!” She laughs, “Promise you’ll be here?”

Harley winks at her, “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting twords' the end now guys :))
> 
> (im uploading the last 2 chapters back to back so look out for that ;))


	9. ix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its a sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read this chapter later whilst playing the song Everything Stays by Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure time) for maximum feels

“I’m full.” She announces.

Her dad glares at her, “Eat, young lady.” He demands.

She’s not young, Pamela Isley was turning 9 next spring.

“I’m not hungry.” Pamela is sitting across from her father, arms crossed, eyeing the food.

“Honestly, what are we going to have to do to get you to do as we please...?” Her mother mutters underneath her breath.

There is a pang of guilt.

The peas taste different, Pamela decides, scooping the last of her food into her mouth and pushing herself off of her chair. A butler comes, ready to clean up after her.

She excuses him. “It’s fine, I’ll put this away myself. I’ll be in my room.”

Pamela takes her plates and cutlery before the butler can protest, feeling her parents’ stares bore into the back of her head. She pushes past the kitchen and places her plates in the sink. Pamela opens cupboards and cabinets, checks her fridge. There aren’t any snacks. There are never any snacks here — it is proper, etiquette-abiding mealtimes or nothing in the Isley family.

She decides on stealing a banana and an apple from her neighbour’s trees and runs off to her room.

It is almost 7 o’clock and the sun is setting. Pamela goes over her things again. Two pillows. A blanket. One banana. One apple. Her book and her stereo. It isn’t much, but it’ll do. Harley’s bringing snacks too, after all.

There is one problem.

How can she leave without her parents seeing? A blanket and two pillows outside her room would be crazy-suspicious.

What would Harley do?

Oh.

Of course.

With her things wrapped up in her blanket, Pamela creaks open her windowsill. She throws the makeshift bag of belongings through the window and it lands with a thud on the grass outside. Pamela pulls herself over the wooden frame, shivering as her feet touch the damp grass. The dwindling sunlight flushes the white-washed walls of her house a fiery orange. Pamela takes her blanket bundle and sprints to the treehouse. The wind is flowing through her hair like water, cooling her and tickling at her face, raising goosebumps along her arms.

She climbs up the last ladder step and lays the blanket on the wooden platform. Shuffling bean bags aside, she places the pillows down next to each other. There is another blanket in the treehouse, curled up in the corner from another night Harley had visited. Pamela switches on her fairy lights as soon as the last flicker of light fades behind the horizon and the tree lights up. Specks of gold glow between leaves, lights strung from corner to corner. It’ll be like sleeping under a canopy of stars.

Something isn’t right, though, she thinks. Suddenly remembering her missing piece, she runs back to her room, back through the window.

_There you are. _  
__

__With Lucienne nestled in her arms, Pamela heads back to the treehouse.  
_ _

__It’s perfect, she realises, sitting down in the middle of the room and gazing at the fairy lights, admiring drawings from Harley and watching as Lucienne flutters gently side to side. Pamela reaches down and pets the developing leaves, touches the bud tenderly.  
_ _

__Lucienne is almost ready to bloom, she thinks. So she sits and waits. Waits for Harley, anxious that she might miss the moment their flower blooms._ _

__T_ _ __his is something they should share, Pamela decides.  
_ _

__It is half-past 7 and Pamela is still sitting in her treehouse, by herself.  
_ _

__Where is Harley?  
_ _

__She stares at the empty black sea outside and scans the horizons. There’s no one to be seen.  
_ _

___Is Harley going to come at all? _  
___ _

____What if.  
_ _ _ _

____What if.  
_ _ _ _

____What if.  
_ _ _ _

____What… if…  
_ _ _ _

____Pamela squeezes her eyes shut, blocking out the flickering gold lights. She loses sight of Lucienne.  
_ _ _ _

_____What if...  
_ _ _ _ _

_____... Harley isn’t coming _.  
__ _ _ _ _

______There is a dip and she feels her guts sinking, painfully long seconds after the other Pamela wishes that part of her that waits and longs for warmth would go away because she saw this coming.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______She was right all along. Good things never la-  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The tree is moving as the ladder clatters and sways.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Pam!”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The tension in Pamela’s shoulders melts into relief and she grins when Harley drops her things, throwing herself onto her and hugging her tight. She releases a breath she never realised she was holding.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Careful Harls, I’m holding Lucienne,” she laughs softly, barely registering, because Harley is here and the world has come alive again.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The blonde’s eyes widen, and she jumps back. “Oh, right, sorry,” she giggles. “Ahh! This is gonna be so much fun.”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pamela is silent, smiling.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What’s wrong, Pammy? You’re all quiet,” She frowns.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nothing,” Pamela laughs. Chest heaving, she falls back onto her back, “I’m doing just fine.”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harley smiles and lays beside her too, blonde pigtails splayed out, tangling with Pam’s blazing red hair.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sorry I was late today, Pammy. Ma’ and Pa’ wouldn’t let me leave because…” Harley trails off and falls quiet._ _ _ _ _ _

______“They don’t like me leavin’ sometimes. And Ma’ gets real sad sometimes because Pa isn’t around all that much so I wanna make it home for her.”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pamela doesn’t say anything. She just trails her hand down and loops their pinkies together. Harley turns her head and looks at her, eyes soft.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______There’s no excitement, no more energy. Just appreciation, it looks like.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The night passes as the girls laugh, chasing each other on the lawn, playing catch with a ball that has never been touched, before Harley. It seems like Harley’s eyes twinkle as bright as the fairy lights, that soft golden touch gilding her irises. There is something so exciting about the hushed laughter they share as butlers and maids pass by unaware of the children, a feeling of adrenaline that Pamela has always craved. This moment feels pure, their feet wet from the dampened grass, leaves in their hair and smiles that could keep Pamela warm until the end of time.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______I_ _ _ _ _ _ ______t feels like childhood. It feels like she is living in a world full of good things.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______After digging into a container of ice-cream and a packet of biscuits and diving into the warm embrace of Pamela’s blanket, Harley leans her head on shoulder, silently chewing her food. Pamela leans back, and it feels natural. They had left Lucienne by the windowsill to “take in some moonlight”, as Harley had said. Pamela’s pretty sure that’s not how plants work.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The moon hangs above them, alerting the girls that it’s quite late into the night. She feels Harley yawn, her head knocking at her chin, confirming her suspicions.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We should sleep.” Pam suggests.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harley hugs her tighter. “Nooo,” She whines. “One more game… of-” Harley is betrayed by another yawn.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pamela laughs. “No, Harls, let’s go to bed.”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Fine.”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______By now the batteries in the lights have worn out, flickering wearily in the dark, letting moonlight take over as it seeps into the room.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s quiet. The quietest it has been for a long time.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______So Pamela thinks.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______With Harley by her side, she wonders about good things. She wonders if good things do last sometimes._ _ _ _ _ _

______Dealing with bad things all the time takes a toll on a person. It gets harder and harder to hope.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Is Harley a good thing? Yes, Pamela decides, most definitely.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______It makes her wonder if Harley will go away. If she could possibly lose the blonde, someday.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The thought makes her feel empty as if it’s a question of when, rather than if.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You ever wonder about losing good things, Harls?”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______This is stupid. Harley’s asleep.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Or not, because Harley has flipped over, facing her.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Waddaya mean?”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I- Just- I dunno. You ever think nothing good stays for long?” She wonders out loud.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, why do you think that?” Harley queries, joining her in gazing at the ceiling.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I… You know that drawing I gave you? It was of a flower that I used to have.” Pamela pauses and takes in a_ _ _ _ _ _ ______deep breath. “It’s dead now. The drawing’s old, the colour’s faded, and the frame shattered years ago. It’s no longer as good, you know?”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______She opens her mouth to continue but is cut off when Harley sits up and grabs a blue pencil.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______The blonde laughs. "Silly Pammy." Harley takes the drawing out of her pockets and grins.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______She really did keep it, Pamela thinks. She watches as the girl colours in the outside of the red flower.______

______"Good things don't go… They just change!" Harley continues. "Your drawing just happens to change because of time, that’s why the colours fading!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She hands the blue and red drawing to Pamela, the faint red standing out against the sky blue as the paper flutters in the night air.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______"See? Good as new, now even better because blue’s my favourite colour!”  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pamela stares at Harley, dumbfounded.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Has she been thinking about this all wrong her whole life?  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Well, of course, she has…  
_ _ _ _ _ _

_______Of course…_  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pamela’s beginning to realise she’s been wrong about a lot of things.  
_ _ _ _ _ _

______She laughs and squeezes her eyes shut in happiness, something blooming in her chest_ _ _ _ _ _

_"Thanks Harls." _ _  
___


	10. x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

Pamela Isley doesn’t know the date today. She doesn’t really care.

  
She didn’t sleep last night for all the right reasons. Pamela spends the night searching instinctively, examining each moment she’s lived through, but not a single negative thought strays to mind.

  
For once, she thinks about her future instead of dwelling on her past. She imagines a world with Harley by her side, a world where she _changes_ bad things into good things, making them better instead of leaving them broken underneath her bed. It’s a world where she’s happy, she thinks. A world filled with flowers, plants and green, because Pamela knows now that these are good things. Flowers are the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

  
It’s a future Pamela’s looking forward too.

  
As soon as she opens her eyes, golden rays of sun fill her vision, streaming in through the window. The first thing she sees is Harley, illuminated, glowing warm and peaceful.

  
It’s too early in the morning and the blonde is asleep beside her. The morning air stings as she shifts to remove the blanket. She stops when Harley wriggles and dives deeper under the covers, arms reaching out, desperate for something to hold.

“Pammy…?”

  
Drats. She woke Harley up.

  
“Morning, Harls,” Pamela smiles as Harley stretches, arms and legs sticking out.

  
“Hey, Red,” Harley grins.

  
She understands, now, why Harley smiles all the time.

  
As Harley slumps and turns over to fall back asleep, Pamela rests her chin on her knees and curls into a ball. It’s incredible, this feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  
She can’t explain it, but it makes her want to… laugh. For no reason at all. She has laughed with Harley more times than she can count, and the feeling is familiar, that bubble in her chest bursting into song, but this time, it’s for her.

  
She laughs for the sake of laughing. She laughs because finally, she’s not worried or pensive or pained.

She’s just happy.

This morning _cannot _get any better.  
__

__“Holy- RED!” She hears Harley bolt up from her spot, running towards the windowsill.  
_ _

__Pamela glances up and sees the pot Harley is cradling. Her eyes are wide.  
_ _

__After all this time.  
_ _

__All the loss and all the damage.  
_ _

__It has been three long years of emptiness.  
_ _

__But Harley has shown her a different way.  
_ _

Harley’s _changed_ her.

__Maybe it’s worth it after all.  
_ _

__Maybe this is her reward..._ _

_Pamela Isley is only 8 and she's never seen anything as beautiful as a blooming lily._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> (please listen to Kindergarden by Chloe Moriondo and cry with me ;_;)


End file.
